


Dance Monkey

by Mothman_Is_My_Lord



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Dancer! Ja'far, F/M, Fluff, Let's be honest I always put angst in my fics, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:53:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22135840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothman_Is_My_Lord/pseuds/Mothman_Is_My_Lord
Summary: Into the New Year, Sinbad starts having many revelations.1) He's going to be a best man for Hinahoho's wedding2) He can't dance3) He's ready for more than just simple flingsSome problems are more thought provoking.If one thing's for sure, the dancer from the club gave wonderful advice.
Relationships: Hinahoho/Rurumu (Magi), Jafar/Sinbad (Magi), Sharrkan/Yamuraiha | Yamraiha
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	Dance Monkey

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know exactly how interesting this idea is but I felt the need to write it anyways. It'd be a big help to know what ya'll think.

Sinbad could barely hear himself think over the bass boosted speakers, shaking the entire establishment with every beat. Somehow, the words of the song reached his ears muffled, seemingly unaffected by the increased volume. By some miracle, he was able to walk away every week with his eardrums in tact, and minimal hearing loss. Whether or not the same could be said for his friends was a mystery. Sharrkan was having too much fun, drinking cheerfully with dancers that paid him attention or women that traveled here alone.

If Sinbad wasn't currently on the clock as Hinahoho's best man, he would've been sailed in the same boat. However, there were still tons of preparations Sinbad had to endure as best man that he had yet to plan. Sinbad was grateful that Hinahoho requested an early Bachelor Party, finding it unfit to be hungover on the best day of his life.

Sinbad loved being at a party full of barely dressed individuals with amazing looks and even better dance moves, but the latter reminded him of the biggest issue of all.

He couldn't dance.

Yes, Sinbad was a charming man. Yes, he has danced with tons of women before. And yes, he somehow managed to walk away without stomping his larger feet on top of theirs. That doesn't mean he was prepared for a _wedding_. An event where people were sober, and watching him closely as he moved around. Worst of all, the likelihood of seeing them again in the future was high, whereas half the people in High School would never see him again (that, and they were all drunk).

Sinbad sat on a bar stool, sipping his first beverage of the night. He agreed to allow himself one or two, enough to reassure Hina that he was having a good time. His alcohol tolerance was high, and even with four drinks he'd be able to drive everyone home safely. Beforehand, Drakon had tried to tell Sinbad that he didn't plan on getting wasted, so he advocated himself for making sure everyone made it home in one piece. Drakon wasn't the type to over indulge in alcohol, and neither was Hina or Masrur. They'd have a couldn't of drinks, talk (more or less on Masrur's part), and call it good.

None of this information stopped Sinbad from mentally jotting down ideas for his best man speech or checking off every dance studio he knows. This event was about Hinahoho, and Sinbad wasn't about to screw it up by making a fool of himself.

"Well, if this isn't an incredible sight," Sinbad glanced up to see Yamuraiha grinning at him. She was behind the counter, wiping glasses before setting them down. "Sinbad, Lady Killer of the Seven Seas isn't returning obvious flirts. Who are you and what have you done with the Sinbad I know?"

Sinbad rolled his eyes, circling the drink in his hand, enjoying how the ice cubes clanked against the glass before taking a sip. "Aren't you normally on stage?"

Yamuraiha shrugged. "One of the bartenders was out sick so I filled in for him."

"Then who's taking your place up there?" Sinbad asked.

"A friend of mine," Yamuraiha answered. "Why, suddenly interested?"

Sinbad groaned. "Can't I just be a good friend and not a sex craved beast for five minutes?" At Yam's contemplative face, he grabbed a peanut from one of the trays placed out and threw it at her. "I was just curious how you could fill in when they still need the same amount of dancers. I was about to question your boss's strategy, that's all."

"Right," Yamuraiha scowled jokingly before someone down the line called her name. She sent Sinbad an apologetic look. "Sorry. I'd love to keep you company and distract you from wedding planning but I have to see what that idiot wants." Yam headed off in that direction, leaving Sinbad alone on the stool once again.

It was an odd feeling, sitting alone while everyone drank boastfully. Sinbad felt out of place, the sudden change in rolls throwing him through a loop.

Sinbad silently wished Yam could've stuck around, already missing her friendly distraction. She was a great friend, and definitely would've been invited to the bachelor party if she'd been... a bachelor. Sinbad hadn't realized she was doing him a favor, distracting him from the responsibilities weighing down his shoulders. Now that she was gone, it was painfully heavy.

He stared down at his empty glass. _Only one left_.

Since when did two drinks become so unsatisfactory?

His brain couldn't even focus on his lack of alcohol before jumping his train of thought right into , _how the hell was he supposed to write an appropriate speech for a wedding_? Talking about Hina and his happiness that his best friend was getting married to an equally loving woman wasn't difficult. But he wasn't just presenting the speech to Hina, Rurumu, and his close friends. This was going to be in front of Hina's entire family. IT wasn't like they were painfully strict people, but Sinbad didn't want to take the risk of offending them. 

_Being the best man is fucking stressful,_ Sinbad thought bitterly. He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, refraining himself from asking the nearest bartender to refill his drink already.

"No shit."

Sinbad's hands flew off his face. His eyes instantly met the rough voice that had broke plagued thoughts. Sinbad's eyes roamed over the pale complexion, beautifully complemented by lightly dotted cheeks and deep onyx eyes. Snowy hair dusted across his face, illuminated like an underwater aquarium in the black lights. Long, neon green fishnet gloves that ran up the length of his forearm glowed along with a neon green crop top that hugged the upper half of his body, doing nothing to cover speckled shoulders, carved collar bones, toned abs (but not overly done) and lean muscles. He didn't allow his eyes to venture further down the man's lower, _lower_ body.

"What?" Sinbad asked once he'd realized how long he'd hesitated.

"You accidentally expressed your stress towards being a best man," the man replied, humor dancing through his eyes but his mouth remained a frown. He sat a bar stool away from Sinbad, legs crossed and arm extended out as if stretching the muscles there.

Sinbad's eyes widened, the tips of his ears burning painfully. His eyes slid towards his empty glass, an embarrassed chuckle escaping his lips. "I didn't mean to say that out loud. The groom just so happens to be here and I don't want to stress him out."

The man hummed. HE followed Sinbad's eyes to the small glass. "How many drinks have you had?" Sinbad picked out the curiosity, followed by unease and... annoyance? Golden eyes found dark ones again, surveying the enticing features of his delicate face. Experience with drunk customers that sat on the same stool Sinbad picked, memories that Sinbad didn't want associated with his face. 

"That was one out of two," Sinbad pushed the glass away from him, folding his arms against the counter and giving the stranger his complete attention. "Since you know why I'm here, why not return the favor?"

"I never asked you," the stranger defended. "You're the one sulking."

"I'm not sulking," Sinbad argued. "I was trying to figure out what the hell I can say about my friend in front of his family."

The man adjusts himself on the stool, angling his body towards Sinbad and sitting more comfortably. "What do you have so far?"

Sinbad couldn't figure out why his mouth spilled the bare bones of sentences and thoughts he struggled to work with to someone he didn't know. If the man didn't seem genuinely curious; if his voice wasn't pleasing to the ear despite it's rough edges; if he wasn't exquisitely built; if he wasn't so endearing- Sinbad wouldn't have said anything. 

"Have you written all of that down?" He asked. Sinbad blinked.

"No," Sinbad shook his head. "Why? Should I?" 

The man groaned, the palm of his hand smacking against his forehead. It ran down to pinch the bridge of his nose before he glared at Sinbad. " _Yes_. If you write everything down you're less likely to forget, and it'll make your life a whole lot easier fr you to rearrange and notice the ideas you want to explore more," he explained.

Sinbad pointed at him. "That's a great point."

"It's called being logical," he hissed.

"Thank you," Sinbad's grin fell into a genuine smile. It was easier on his face, and came more naturally to him.

It was the man's turn to appear taken aback. He leaned back in his seat, wrinkles marking the space between his eyebrows and disturbing the seemingly smooth skin. "Excuse me?"

"Thank you," Sinbad repeated.

"For what?" The man asked.

"For giving me good advice," Sinbad answered simply. "Most people would've stared at me strangely for talking to myself or ignored me when talking about my personal problems. You didn't. I don't know why you stuck around but you ended up helping me out a lot."

Sinbad barely caught the red growing underneath freckles across his otherwise pale cheeks. The joyful grin found its way back on Sinbad's face, his chest filling heavily, yet pleasing.

"You would've figured it out along the way..." 

"No," Sinbad shook his head. "No I wouldn't have." Sinbad was an intelligent man, but he had a habit of missing simple details while his mind worked on the bigger picture. He could be highly observant and pull solutions out of thin air, but within every strength is a weakness, and scanning over simple ideas happen to be Sinbad's.

The stranger opened his mouth, no doubt another argument loaded on his tongue before the music exploded around them, even louder than before. Sinbad hadn't thought it possible- and yet, there he sat, ears screaming in protest. Even the man next to him winced, hand flying up to his ear as if that'd help him. He sent a glare to the speakers. Sinbad has never felt bad for an inanimate object, but the man's glare was downright murderous. 

"They really need to chill it with the volume," Sinbad shouted over the music, rubbing his sore ears. It was ineffective, the real pain being inside, towards his eardrums. The ache was starting to travel through his nervous system towards his brain, already giving him a premature headache.

Freckles (Sinbad didn't have a better title for him) nodded in agreement. As the music sped up, his eyes darted towards the lights above, shining on individual dancers.

Sinbad noticed that the blue light- normally reserved fro Yamuraiha- was circling the room. He figured it was searching for the friend that filled in for Yam. 

Freckled braced both of his hands against the counter, lifting himself effortlessly until he was sitting on the surface. His mouth was drawn back in a grimace as his gaze followed the intimidating light.

"What are you doing?" Sinbad asked. Freckles's head whipped towards him, momentarily forgetting the violet- haired man's presence.

"I wouldn't stress over you speech. From what you've told me, you'll do just fine as long as you plan in advance," Freckles reassured. "I also hope your friend has a great marriage." There was a barely there smile, one that churned Sinbad's insides in a positive way. It was far more beautiful than the gushed laughter of countless women that draped themselves across Sinbad's arms.

Freckles kicked his legs underneath him, his body moving languidly as he stood up. His movements were calm waters in the middle of the ocean. There were no choppy moves, no stiff actions, nothing that destroyed the rhythm.

Sinbad was about to ask the same question, but Freckles was much taller than his while standing on the counter. His voice would've been drowned out by the overly obnoxious music. 

All of Sinbad's thoughts were tossed out the window when the aqua light found Freckles, flushing the neon greens in aquarium light. Sinbad felt his jaw drop, nearly breaking off its hinges. Onyx eyes flashed underneath the light, a playful tint to them, enjoying Sinbad's reaction.

For a minute, Sinbad was positive the heater had been turned on. Freckles's cheeks were rosy, and Sinbad felt his own skin flush- the heat flowing from his ears, down his neck, climbing up to his own cheeks. 

Freckles tore his beautiful charcoal eyes away, and carefully walked around drinking customers, and over emptied glasses. Sinbad watched as he bent backwards, folding over onto his arms before placidly lifting his legs over himself, maneuvering around a more crowded section of the counter easily without disturbing any of the patrons. Sinbad's golden eyes never left Freckles as he moved across the establishment. The man's advise ringing through his head along with his delicate voice and striking features. White hair wasn't uncommon to Sinbad, but it was a trait that not many people possessed. His faint skin accompanying equally bleached hair was intriguing, and a sight that Sinbad would never forget. It was different from Sharrkan's tan complexion, and connected the dots that Sinbad hadn't considered to his liking before.

"You've been sitting over here for quite some time," Hinahoho's voice broke through Sinbad's haze. His eyes finally left Freckles, turning towards his friend. Drakon and Masrur trailed behind, the pine-haired man carrying on a quiet conversation while Masrur nodded every now and then. "As long as you're enjoying yourself, I won't bother you but why haven't you joined Sharrkan?"

Drakon tuned into the topic. "Normally you have at least two women lined up beside you." Masrur nodded in silent agreement.

Sinbad's mind traveled back towards his interaction, a wave of sadness washing over him as he remembered its conclusion. He battled his brain, trying to decide whether or not he should tell his friends about Freckles, ensure them that he hadn't been alone the entire time. Freckles had said he was sulking, and if a stranger had caught on, then Hina must've as well. "I've decided to bask in a quiet night. You three seem to enjoy them fairly well."

"There's nothing wrong in enjoying another woman's presence, Sinbad. I hope we haven't offended you in any way," Drakon said. Being the longest running married man Sinbad knew, he had a habit of teasing Sinbad for his nightly escapades. 

"No," Sinbad waved his hand. "I understand that they're only jokes, and they're not why I've decided to try something new." He spread out his arms. "It's the New Year, isn't it? Why not start off the new decade by trying something equally new?"

Masrur eyed him, calculating Sinbad's posture and words. There was nothing that skated past the pink-haired man. He always managed to figure out things before anyone else to the point where keeping secrets from Masrur was a fool's errand. Sinbad still didn't say anything, even if Masrur picked up on his lack of complete truth. It wouldn't prove to be a huge situation because Sinbad wasn't lying either. There were certain details he planned to keep to himself.

Sinbad didn't know if his sudden attraction to Freckles was purely platonic or if the butterflies in his stomach were a sign of another emotion being stirred deeper. He'd heard stores of people expressing how they felt butterflies around their significant other or when they interacted with someone they admired. Sinbad never experienced that problem. He wasn't introverted by any means. He was outgoing, sociable, and confident. His face never flamed, heart never skipped, stomach never flipped, and there were very few times where someone had rendered him speechless.

And somehow, Freckles had managed to do all four in the span of ten minutes. 

**Author's Note:**

> I bet you can't guess what song I listened to while writing this.


End file.
